Lament for Sins Past
by Luna16
Summary: How can they all find redemption? Only through each other. Chapter 6 up!
1. Control Shattered

Title: Lament for Sins Past Rating: PG-13 Disclaimers: All characters are owned by JJ Abrams.  
  
Based after The Counteragent  
  
Control shattered  
  
Derevko walked up to the glass marking the edge of her boundary and ran her hand across its smooth finish. So smooth she thought admiring its definition. It knew exactly where it began and where it ended. It understood its purpose. It did not question its purpose. It did not regret its purpose. It would always be consistent in its properties, in its purpose. It would not suddenly decide, on a whim, to not be glass anymore. Unfortunately, she thought ruefully, it can be shattered.  
  
With no windows in her cell it was impossible to tell the time, but she new it was evening. It felt like evening. She felt tired and worn out. She leaned her head against the glass and felt its coolness against her forehead. The coolness momentarily shocked her, so she turned her face so she could touch her cheek to it as well. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the slight pain in her face. Too soon her cheek become used to the glass and so she had to turn her face to the other cheek. When the other half of her face could no longer feel the glass she turned slightly, so that the back of her head rested against the glass. She hardly felt herself slide to the floor except when her head hit against the metal bar that divided the glass. It ripped out some of her hair as she continued her slide down but she barely smiled. She knew it was going to be one of those nights, but she also knew that she needed it. Because after she cut her soul open she would be stronger for it.  
  
Her thoughts turned back to her visitor earlier today. He really does look so much like his father. He is more naïve but maybe that makes him better. Maybe he won't be quite so harsh, maybe he won't be quite so willing to sacrifice his beliefs.maybe he won't be willing to turn into the people he despises to destroy them. He came back to see me today. He didn't have to; he could have just gone home. He didn't even try to lie. Maybe it was because he was scared of me but I don't think so. He won't become what I have. More likely he's just scared to love her. And he should be. She'll push him to his very boundaries, but if he doesn't break then she won't either.  
  
Do I regret killing the old man? No, he knew the risks, and I have no doubt that he would have killed me without hesitation had he been in a position to, but I regret what it has done to them. Can they overcome the lies and death that surround them? Can he still love her even though I killed his father? She needs someone like him. She needs his foundations, she needs his strength, and she needs his honor to remind her that not everyone is like her parents. More than anything, Irina knew that she did not want her daughter to become like her. Because to become like her, she knew the unspeakable pain Sydney would have to go through.  
  
If Fate is really governed by a deity of some kind, Irina thought cruelly, then she's probably pissed herself laughing by now.  
  
But she also knew that would have killed her if she was really working for Arvin Sloane. She would have killed her daughter to prevent her from working for that man. And for that she could hate Jack. Jack had allowed it to happen. Jack must have understood the total evil encompassed within that man and yet he had not found a way to stop her. I would have, she thought. Irina found herself looking back through her life at the role that Jack had played. She understood the mission when she was selected to go. She felt no remorse in using Jack to get the intel she needed. She had been incapable of remorse. She had been trained at an early age to do what she was told and so she did. She knew the price of disappointment. But she was not totally blind to the greed and selfishness of her superiors. She knew that some of the intel she passed along did not go to help her country, it went to help her boss or her boss's boss. But she did what she was told. Until the day she met Arvin Sloane she had not thought that evil really existed. She had understood human weakness, she had learned to use it to her advantage, but Arvin had showed her that evil was another monster altogether.  
  
And that's the real truth. I have regrets. I regret playing his game. I regret sinking down to his level to get revenge. I had regained control in the relationship. Except for that one night, I was always the one in control. I should have left it at that. She thought back to that fateful night. Her and Jack had been sharing a few drinks of wine; they had been enjoying themselves. He had turned on some classical music in the background when Arvin knocked on their door. Him and Jack had talked seriously for a few minutes before Jack asked to excuse himself for a few hours. He had invited Arvin to stay and Arvin had accepted. After Jack left, Irina had found herself in an awkward silence with him. She had never liked him much, he reminded her of a snake, with his beady eyes. She must have drunk more that she intended or perhaps.she did not discount the fact that he may have drugged the wine that she was drinking. Though she remembered only disconnected scenes from that night, she knew that he had pinned her against the table and taken her right there. She remembered him holding her hands above her head with such force that she could not remove them. She had been helpless. Afterwards when he had left, she had felt such rage, rage like she had not felt in years, not since her first few years at the Academy. She remembered locking herself in the bathroom and crying and screaming until she was hoarse. Then she had gone to bed.  
  
The next day she had begged Jack for a child. Jack had been hesitant because of his work, but in the end he could deny her nothing. Through all her hate and rage she had thought herself incapable of love. She had meant to use the child to torture Arvin, let him believe the child was his. She vividly remembered the look of shock on his face when he found out she was pregnant. He had discretely asked her if the child could possibly be his and she had merely smiled. He never touched her again. She had regained control. That is until she had found out twenty years later that he had recruited her daughter.  
  
With her head hanging heavy on her shoulders Irina stood back up and this time leaned her face against the cool metal bar supporting the glass. With tears streaming down her face she could not contain the groan of grief that escaped her throat. She had thought she could never love, but the truth was she had loved Sydney from the moment she laid eyes on her. Suddenly this little baby had managed to ensnare the heart she had heavily guarded. It was as if all of her rage and hate had been instantly transformed into a love so powerful she would have killed anyone for it. And then she had seen the look on Jack's face when he first held his daughter. She saw what she could only imagine had been on her face moments earlier. In that moment she knew that she could also love Jack. Regardless of her mission, regardless of the consequences, she could love this man if he loved their daughter as much as she did.  
  
As time went on, she realized that if she were to protect her daughter, then she had to complete her mission. There were evil, horrible people in the world that would be happy to use Sydney against her. And so she did what she had to, to protect her. And she regretted none of it, except her revenge against Arvin. And now Sydney was in the very position that she had thought to prevent. Irina slid her cheek across the cool metal, not even feeling the cold, she was so wrapped up in her emotions. She was scared. She was scared that Sydney would be hurt, scared that she would feel something close to the pain that Irina had carried around with her for years. And secretly, in a part of her heart she denied, she knew that she was also scared that Sydney would always believe her to be the evil incarnate that she herself had and still did believe Sloane to be.  
  
Irina felt the sobs escape and as she slid back down the metal bar she felt a burr in the metal tickle her cheek. Suddenly Irina jerked her head down and felt the metal burr rip painfully across her cheek. She sat on the floor, brought her knees up to her chest and buried her head in her hands. She was helpless again. Her guilt was for nothing, because she was helpless to aid her daughter. And so she cried. 


	2. Shades of Grey

Shades of Grey  
  
Sydney walked across the wet grass. The sun had set and darkness and claimed the sky. In the half light remaining she could easily make out the rows of headstones lined up in neat rows across the field before her. The wet earthy smell filled her senses as she inhaled deeply. It was not a sad breath that she took. She had not come to mourn the dead.  
  
She slowly maneuvered herself towards the familiar grave of her dead fiancé. The wet ground caused her heels to sink slightly with every step and more so when she was standing directly in front of the grave. She gave in to gravity and knelt on the wet grass. The cold from the ground quickly caused her to shiver but she did not get up. With her hand she lightly traced Danny's name. I miss you so much, she thought. She let the loneliness fill her until she thought she would burst. But in truth, it wasn't just Danny that she was lonely for. Her life suddenly felt empty.  
  
She realized she missed her friends but they were just at home. She missed Vaughn, but he was just probably out with his girlfriend. She missed having a family even though she knew exactly where her immediate blood relatives were.  
  
But why do I miss this all now? This has been my life for the past year. In the half-light remaining she saw long shadows falling across the graves and noticed that they obscured many details. She also noticed that the bright colored flowers on Danny's grave didn't seem so bright. In fact Sydney was hard pressed to make out their original colors. She knew they were roses and that they should be a lovely red, but instead they looked murky and gray. And then she realized a truth. That before she had always had the belief that she was doing this for some higher cause. It had been for God and Country at first. Later after Danny, it had been to get revenge for what they had done. These ideals, these causes had made noble all the lies and deceits that she had to carry out. They had justified all the lies that she had placed between herself and her friends, they had given her righteousness that she could use to judge her father and hate her mother. They had given her an excuse to hold Vaughn at arm's length. She was better then all that.  
  
And then she had lied to save her mother from death and father from prison. And then she had been willing to help kill a man to save another. Been willing to kill a man you hate to save a man you love she tossed out to herself, forcing herself to say the truth. She had not done any of these things for her country. Nor had she done these things to bring down SD-6. She had done these things for her own selfish reasons and she knew that she would do them again if she had to. In the space of a few weeks she had sacrificed her ideals for what? To become her parents' daughter.  
  
Did she have the right to judge them anymore? Was her mother really evil or had she been following orders that she thought were right? Was her father horrible because he tested Project Christmas on her when she was a child, when he was only trying to protect her? Was Arvin Sloane the devil himself, just because he had killed his dying wife? Because he'd had Danny killed? Because he traded weapons and intel for profit? After all, probably even he had a reason for all that he did. The twilight darkened as the sun set. She shuddered from the cold and her thoughts, am I really like Sloane? She shook her head violently, no, no, no I'm not like him, I didn't do it for me just for me, I did it to save them; even though I need them. But she was unsure if she could still find some dividing line between herself and the people she did not want to be like. Her life was no longer black and white. She felt the cool cement under her hand and realized that she was still touching the gravestone. She removed her hand and shifted her weight so that she sat on the grass. The darkness was complete and all she could see was gray crosses and plaques dotting the landscape, silhouetted against a lighter gray sky. And over and over and over again, the phrase that kept ringing in her head was I am my parents' daughter.  
  
I am my parents' daughter.  
  
And finally with that thought Sydney could do nothing but hang her head and let the tears gush out. 


	3. Ice Melts

Ice Melts  
  
Jack opened the door to his apartment and quietly walked in. He carelessly dropped his coat over the arm of the sofa and proceeded to loosen his tie. After his tie joined his jacket on top of his coat, he walked over to his small bar. He flicked on a small table lamp merely so he wouldn't spill any of the liquor he was about to pour. The light annoyed him, but spilling any scotch would have annoyed him more. The two ice cubes made a loud clink as they hit the empty glass and crackled slightly as he poured the golden liquor over top of them. He would have shut the light again, but he wasn't a dramatic person. He wanted the light to annoy him. He knew better than anyone that he did not deserve the forgiveness of the dark. He walked over to his loveseat and shook his head at the irony of the name as he sat down.  
  
He swirled the glass around causing the ice to circle the inside of the glass, cooling the liquid evenly. As he watched the ice melt he let himself feel the weariness of the last few weeks. Though he and his daughter had made some kind of peace, especially working together to find a cure for Vaughn's illness, he still felt this big gaping hole in his heart as he thought back to her accusing words. She had thought that she was the embodiment of all his mistakes. His heart clenched as he thought back to that plane ride. The truth of the matter was that he loved her more anything in the world. But he seemed to have a nasty habit of hurting those he cared for.  
  
He had caused his friends to abandon him. Devlin had been his friend once, but now he wouldn't even talk to him unless absolutely necessary. He actually thought that Devlin might despise him. Or maybe that was too harsh, maybe he was only really disappointed. Either way he had no one to share this drink with, so he gulped it down in one swing.  
  
Then there was Vaughn. He got up and decided to pour himself another drink. Swirling his new drink in his hand he contemplated his daughter's handler. Who am I kidding? He thought savagely. As much as he tried to dislike him for his meddling and the few mistakes he made, the truth of the matter was, and that is what tonight is about isn't it? He respected Vaughn. Vaughn had proven his integrity over and over. He isn't sacred of me thought Jack, surprised that it should matter but it did. And he knew how to handle Sydney and for that Jack was a little bit jealous. Overall, Jack had to admit that he could have liked Vaughn, if he'd let himself. But instead I belittle him on a regular basis, I try to undermine his authority with my daughter and generally give him no reason to like me at all. And maybe that's what bothered him the most about Vaughn. Jack could like him as a person if he didn't represent all the things that Jack wasn't but wished he was. And for that thought, Jack was ashamed.  
  
Taking down SD-6 is what gets her up in the morning, or did you think it was the meetings she has with you?  
  
You do good work, Agent Vaughn. But your consistent shortcoming - you should know this - is your naive sense of morality  
  
Jack shook his head to clear it of these thoughts and poured himself another drink. Unfortunately, following the laws of nature, new thoughts diffused into the vacuum created in his head. These thoughts were of his daughter and his ex-wife. The two were intertwined in a jumbled mess in his head. Yes, he had loved Laura, more than he had ever thought possible, until Sydney had been born. And then he had learned to love even more. Sydney was his joy, his redemption. She was his everything and somehow he had managed to take all his love and turn it into a knife that he repeatedly thrust into his daughter's heart.  
  
Don't you ever speak to me again.  
  
Every time I think I know just how awful you are, I learn something worse.  
  
I will never forgive you for this.  
  
He didn't know where the lines had become blurred. He didn't know why every time he did something to help his daughter, that he only succeeded in hurting her instead. Why did every decision he made with concern for her, drive her farther from him? He had always trusted himself. He had always known, without a shred of doubt that what he was doing was the best for her. Until now. For the first time since he had dealt with his wife's betrayals, Jack started to doubt.  
  
He swirled the glass around again. Somehow the comforting liquid was gone again, and all he was left with was the half-melted ice at the bottom. He stared at the ice; he watched the liquid start to pool in the side of cube. Slowly, the drop of water grew until it was carried down by gravity. As it fell from the ice it pooled in the bottom of the glass, slowly. The drop's perfect crystal structure giving way to the chaos of its new form. And he felt he could mourn the melting of that drop, until he looked back at the top of the ice cube and saw that another drop had formed, and then another. And then Jack grew scared. Scared that he would start to unravel. He felt tears flowing down his face as he tossed his empty glass on his empty coffee table. It made a painfully loud clang that echoed in his empty apartment. And he cried. 


	4. Fallen from Grace

Fallen from Grace  
  
Vaughn walked up to the fence surrounding his usual meeting spot. The dim light and the dirty floors gave him a sense of belonging. He grabbed the chain link with his left hand and used it as a support for his head. He wasn't sure why he had come here. He wanted to be alone and he did not want to go home. Home was for normal people with normal lives and his was far from it. He did not want to mock his home by being in it right now. He stared at the crisscross of the metal holding his hand up. Over, under, over, under, each time the metal rope intersected another it wound around it, binding them together. Sometimes there were rough knots in the metal and they would scratch his right hand as he ran it over the fence. It was a fence in a dark, dusty, moldy warehouse and its sole purpose was to keep normality out. Normal people wouldn't be here, they wouldn't even thing of coming in here. But he was here.  
  
He had tried desperately to be normal. He had tried to convince himself that it was normal for his life at work and his life outside of work to be unconnected to each other. It was just work after all. People everywhere did jobs they didn't like so that they could enjoy their real lives outside of work. But how many people did their lives outside of work so that they could enjoy their real life at their jobs? He wondered dejectedly.  
  
And that was the truth of the matter. It was only at his job, or more specifically, when he was working with Sydney that he felt alive. Everything else he did was simply so he could participate in those moments.  
  
He sighed as he turned his body and leaned the back of his head against the chain-link. He looked over at the spot she usually stood and closed his eyes. In his mind he could see her laugh, he could see her smile, he could even see her frown, which of the three expressions seemed to be what she did the most of. But if anything, her frowns seemed to make her smiles all the more precious. She was alive with passion. He could only marvel at her spirit. He felt like an empty shell without her. So he had vowed to do everything in his power to make sure she survived her job, so that she could live her normal life.  
  
My guardian angel, she had called him.  
  
He almost cried at the irony of it. He was no angel. He had betrayed her like everyone else in her life. He loved her. He needed her like he needed air. But he was a coward, he knew. He had drawn the lines of protocol around them with iron chains. Maybe iron chains with holes in them, he thought ruefully. Not only am I coward, but I am weak as well.  
  
He knew that when she needed him he threw protocol out the window. He knew she needed someone real in her life. She was the only real thing in his. But how she dealt with her multiple lives he had no idea. The only way he had found that he could was to pretend that only one was real at any time. When he was at home, Sydney was a dream. His love for her was like the love one feels for an abstract ideal. But if Sydney ever called him when he was in his other life, the façade would come crashing down as if it were a house of cards on a windy day.  
  
But that's how he'd failed her. He'd been at home, alone in his apartment. When Alice had come knocking on his door he had let her in. When she had leaned close to him he had not pushed her away. When she had asked to see him again, he had not said no. How could he explain to Sydney that she had just not been real. He couldn't because it was not an excuse. Sydney had needed him to be real to her and his other life had been showcased before her. I'm no better then any of them, acting one way in front of her and then acting in other when she is not looking. He should have been true to himself and then he would not have betrayed her. Though he would not have allowed anything to happen between them, at least he would not have betrayed her.  
  
And then she had betrayed herself, her ideals for him, to save him. Instead of helping to guide her towards a path that she knew was right and could live with herself for following, he had lead her to the very gates of hell. And he cried.  
  
Almost. Sydney got the antidote. The doctors say your blood levels are looking good.  
  
How did she do it? He'd asked Jack.  
  
She had Sloane killed.  
  
She had laid her righteousness on a sacrificial altar for him and he knew he was not worth of the sacrifice.  
  
Vaughn felt his legs go down underneath him and he allowed himself to slump to the ground. The dust kicked up forming a cloud around him causing him to cough. The cough was real. This was real. His pain was real. He vaguely heard his cell phone ring. Without thinking he glanced at its screen and saw Alice's number. In the same fluid motion he hung up on her as if to illustrate to himself just once more that though Sydney could shatter his house of cards, no one else could put them back up. With this realization, he tossed his cell phone along the floor and leaned his head back on the chain link forming his prison. He did not think his tears would redeem but they were the only penance he could think of. 


	5. The Pane of Glass

The Pane of Glass  
  
Jack looked at his empty drink on his empty coffee table and stood up. His fluid movements did not betray his uncertainty as he picked up his jacket and keys and walked out of his apartment. Outside it had started to rain and he stood in the drizzle on the sidewalk and hailed a cab. It came surprisingly quickly considering the weather but Jack did not hesitate. He knew where he had to go. He thought it was an incredibly bad idea for him to go there, but he knew where he had to go.  
  
He entered the stark, bright jail cell without hesitating; he had ordered his way in to see her like a man who had business to see her. But the bright lights blinded him momentarily and he came to a sudden halt. He couldn't even remember why he had come, but he did remember thinking it was a really bad idea to do so. He walked slowly, forcing one foot in front of the other. It was only through his sheer force of will that he was able to come within sight of her cell. The sight that met him shocked him to say the least. Huddled on the floor of the cell with her head leaning against the glass was his wife. Ex-wife he started to correct himself, but then it occurred to him that perhaps he was still legally married to this woman.  
  
He shook his head to rid it of these extraneous thoughts and focused on the woman's face. He was shocked because it appeared that she was crying. He must have made some noise, scuffled his feet or brushed his jacket against the wall because she turned her face to look right at him. It seemed that the same force of will propelling Jack forward was the only force helping her to her feet. They stared at each other for several moments like opponents sizing up their competition.  
  
"You're drunk," she said dryly and in a quiet voice.  
  
"You're bleeding," he responded tracing a line on the glass where her cheek would have been, had she been up against it. She turned away.  
  
"Why did you come here Jack? To try and make peace between us?" Irina asked him coldly.  
  
Jack could not contain the burst of anger that exploded from him as he punched the glass in front of where she was standing. Irina could not stop herself from flinching.  
  
"There can be no peace between us La-" and then Jack shut his mouth. Irina smirked at his momentary weakness and walked closer to the glass.  
  
"Then I ask you again Jack." She said emphasizing his name. "Why did you come here?"  
  
Jack stood up and straightened his jacket. "Ironically enough Irina, I came here to see if you bleed. It would seem that you do." Jack said as if dismissing her.  
  
As he turned to leave Irina felt the anger build up until she found herself pounding the glass with her fist. "You arrogant son of a bitch" she hollered at him. "And you have the nerve to judge me!"  
  
Jack turned back around with a smirk on his face. "Such vocal vulgarity! It's not like you all." The words rushed out of his mouth. Too late, Jack realized that he should have kept his mouth shut and enjoyed his victory as it was.  
  
Irina's anger disappeared but her expression still had coldness to it. "How would you know Jack? Did you ever really know me at all?"  
  
Now it was Jack's turn to get angry again. "I thought I knew you as my wife." Jack walked back up to the glass separating them. "But you're right, I was wrong about you. But I know you now."  
  
Irina's laugh was hard and brittle. "You thought I was a fool-"  
  
Jack approached even closer to the glass until he was almost touching it. "No I thought you were my wife. And it's me you thought was a fool."  
  
"I thought you were arrogant, and yes a fool as well, for underestimating me. To you I was just a helpless female whose duty it was to feed and clean after the powerful and smart CIA man."  
  
Jack looked at her oddly. "What are you talking about?" he asked her coldly.  
  
Irina shrugged, unwilling to continue. After a moment under Jack's stare she decided to go on. She was too raw to start building her defenses now. "You made it so easy. You even talked about your work to me. You left things lying around. You thought I was incapable of being a threat; that I was too weak, too naive or too stupid to be a threat to you."  
  
"Because I trusted you!" were the only words that Jack could grind out of his clenched jaw.  
  
"You trusted me because you thought you were better than me Jack." Irina said matter-of-factly.  
  
Jack paused a moment. "Wasn't that the point?" he asked quietly, his hurt mixing with the coldness in his voice.  
  
Irina turned away in answer. She preferred Jack the Adversary to Jack the Victim. She had little patience for self-pity.  
  
"I don't even know what to call you." Added Jack as an after thought under his breath.  
  
"That's because a person's name is a very personal thing - Jack," she added pointedly, emphasizing his name. "When you call a person by their name you are reaching into their soul"  
  
"Oh I see. Then I perhaps I should call you Krivda."  
  
Irina threw her head back letting her long hair fall straight behind her back and laughed a deep throaty laugh. "I didn't think you knew so much about Russian mythology. Goddess of Lies? Perhaps, but I've been called worse. I also didn't think you would attach that much power to me."  
  
***  
  
In the CIA rotunda Kendall approached Devlin who was watching the closed circuit screen from the prisoners block. "Do you want me to send someone to bring him out of there?"  
  
Devlin shook his head. "No, I think we should leave them there for a few minutes together."  
  
Kendall's eyes narrowed "Why? No good is going to come of this. The last thing I need is for him to antagonize her."  
  
Devlin raised his hand to cut him off, but Kendall forced this issue. "She's my prisoner!"  
  
"Yes, but he's my agent and he needs to heal. Let him stay a few more minutes."  
  
Kendall shook his head skeptically.  
  
***  
  
"Maybe that's my problem then, you've always had too much power over me", said Jack quietly.  
  
Irina glanced at him cautiously. She wanted a fight, something to help her deal with her pain but Jack was giving up. "For all your righteousness Jack, I think you are going to rot in hell with me."  
  
Jack faced her squarely but added quietly, "That I will, my love."  
  
Irina was shocked to hear his term of endearment; it was the only one he had ever used for her. She shook her head sadly. It seemed he had finally settled on a name for her and for all her defenses it was not one she was prepared for. She felt her control slipping away and she had to retreat to the only pillar she had left. "How could you!" she demanded pounding the glass wall with her fist.  
  
It was Jack's turn to be surprised. "What are you talking about?" he asked.  
  
Irina stepped back from the wall and tried to build up her anger towards Jack. "I was willing to leave her because she would be in your care. That's the only reason I was able to leave. But how could you let her get involved in this life? How could you?"  
  
Jack's face contorted in anger. "I didn't realize it until it was too late."  
  
"Until it was too late? Right" Irina said skeptically.  
  
"Look, we weren't really close. I took your 'disappearance' very badly and by the time I could be a father again, it was just too difficult for me. She grew up and I just tried not to get in the way too much. That's my regret. My fault. I don't need you to remind me of that. Now I'm doing the only thing I can do to help her, but I find that more often than not she doesn't want my help. Again, my own fault. I don't know why Sloane targeted her to be apart of SD-6, but I'm going to do everything in my power to destroy him. That's all I can do now."  
  
Irina stood motionless against the tirade. In the silence that followed Jack saw her staring at him, but he knew it wasn't him she was seeing. Finally she walked over to her bench as slid down onto it. "I know why," she said quietly.  
  
"Why what?" Jack asked wearily, exhausted by his earlier struggle and the wide mood swings of this encounter.  
  
"Why Sloane wanted Sydney to be a part of SD-6." Jack's drunken veil seemed to lift at the mention of Sydney's actual name but he said nothing waiting for Irina to finish. Irina looked up at him with the full knowledge of the reaction awaiting her words. "Arvin thinks that Sydney is his daughter."  
  
The words hung in the air as Jack absorbed what they meant. She could almost hear the click as the thoughts formed in Jack's head and fell into place. "You bitch!" Jack spat out with the force of the words propelling him back, away from her cell, until he was leaning against the cell across from her with his eyes closed. After what seemed like a small eternity Jack managed to regain some of his composure. "I don't know why your infidelity should bother me now, considering everything." he trailed off closing his eyes again.  
  
At the accusation, Irina jumped up and quickly moved to the glass. "NO, no I didn't sleep with him--" she wailed.  
  
But Jack interrupted her by opening his eyes. "There's only one reason why he could think that Sydney was his," he said in voice he didn't think was his own. It couldn't be his voice he reasoned because it didn't crack from the cold that was engulfing his body.  
  
"Yes, but that's not.that's not what happened." She closed her mouth as she realized that she didn't have the strength to go on. She leaned against the glass with her hands, letting her head hang down while Jack waited in silence for her to continue. "The night before I asked you if we could have a child, you were called away to work, Arvin had come to tell you. You invited him to stay for dinner," she paused so that she could look up to Jack. His piercing gaze was like a dagger through her, but she took strength from it. "He raped me that night."  
  
Jack felt his numb brain trying desperately to process the overload of information it had, but between the alcohol and the battered woman behind the glass all he could do was stand there.  
  
"She's your daughter, I swear." The moments passed.  
  
"I know," said Jack finally finding his voice. "She has this nasty stubborn streak," he said with a small smile, too numb with shock to do anything else.  
  
Irina allowed a small smile to form on her lips in response to his but then it disappeared as she continued. "I didn't stop him from thinking it might be his child. I'm so sorry. I--"  
  
Jack held up his hand to stop her from continuing. "I'd like to say it's ok, but I think we are so far beyond that." After another long pause he asked, "Why did you come back?"  
  
Irina answered immediately, "So that I could help our daughter."  
  
Jack nodded. This was an answer that he could understand. It held a clear meaning and didn't have twenty some odd years of history and pain attached to it. He didn't think to question its validity, because there was just too much anguish behind those words. "Well then, perhaps we still have something in common." He paused as he weighted his words, leaning against her glass cage. "I loved you, you know."  
  
Irina nodded and put her hand next to his through the glass, thankful for his attempt to heal her old wound after everything she had done. "Then we have two things in common and maybe we can go on from there?"  
  
Jack nodded and pressed his hand on hers through the glass seeing the irony in his caress. Years before when they had touched, they had been separated by lies. Now the lies were gone but a clear glass plane separated their touch. He didn't doubt that there was still much to resolve between them, but at least for now, it seemed like they had a starting point. He rubbed his head and stepped back from the glass. Irina mimicked his movements and turned away to give some distance to their too raw emotions. With a deep breath, Jack took one last look at her and turned towards the door. 


	6. The Pain of Innocence

OK, I think that this is the last chapter for this story. The tentative title for the next part is Regrets for Lies Told Today. (It might be a little while before the first part for it is ready.)  
  
Still some mild language involved so beware.  
  
Again any comments or suggestions would be greatly appreciated. Thanks!  
  
  
  
The Pain of Innocence  
  
The cold breeze on her tear-stained face brought Sydney back to her surroundings. It seemed like the cold had permeated her bones and congealed her blood.  
  
I'm not alive, she mused. Live people aren't this cold.  
  
She stood up from the cold grass only to be enveloped by the fog and darkness that had fallen. She glanced around at the graves, trying desperately to regain her senses but she felt like she was in a surreal dream. Why had she come here? She shook her head, her reasons for coming here seeming as insubstantial as the fog.  
  
I'm not dead, she forced herself to believe. Dead people don't feel this much pain.  
  
When you're at your absolute lowest, your most depressed, just remember that you can always, you know . . . you've got my number.  
  
Could she call him? Could she rip him away from his normal life to come listen to her crazy, messed up rambling?  
  
No, I can't do that to him, she half thought, half spoke her words. But.maybe I could just.Sydney's confused glance looked over her surroundings once more. The neatly groomed tombstones had an eerie quality to them. She almost laughed in a hysterical kind of way, at the thought of an empty cemetery spooking her when she could face armed men, twice her size without batting an eyelash. Sydney shook her head. She had to stop the hysteria that was bubbling up just underneath her surface. She could feel it trying to come out and she knew that if she allowed herself to succumb to it.She forced herself to walk back to the path without looking around anymore.  
  
Without deciding whether or not to call Vaughn she turned on her car. I can always decide once I get there, she thought. The car shifted easily out of the parking spot, almost like it was eager to be moving from this place. Feeling drained and empty Sydney drove to the only place she could think of.  
  
Sydney entered the dark, dirty warehouse with her shoulders slumped. Wrapped up in her own musings she almost didn't notice the man sitting on the floor. She had taken off her mud-encrusted shoes in the car and not bothered to put them back on. She almost hadn't even come in to the warehouse; she would have just sat in front of the door if some shrill voice in her head hadn't said to go inside before someone saw her. But the fog that had entered her mind was slowly lifting as she recognized the man sitting on the floor with his head in his hands.  
  
Without thinking she closed the distance. "Vaughn?" she said hoarsely, surprised at how her voice sounded while she made a move to lay her hand on his shoulder.  
  
Startled at the sound of her voice, Vaughn jumped to a kneeling position and had his pistol out before he recognized her. "Syd?" he paused trying to make his mind believe his eyes. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Sydney lowered her hands from the defensive posture she had taken at having a gun pointed at her and shrugged, still feeling off balance. "Um.well I was just.ah you know.well what are you doing here?"  
  
Vaughn smiled sadly at her. "About the same I guess." Sydney returned his small smile, understanding it because it seemed like an echo of her own. She slid down on the floor next to where he had been sitting and Vaughn sat back down next to her.  
  
"My God you're freezing!" Vaughn exclaimed, looking at her, the concern lines on his forehead creasing. Without pausing he shrugged off his suit jacket and put it around her. Sydney accepted it gratefully and put her arms through the sleeves. Vaughn laughed softly as she held up her arms trying to find her hands in the long sleeves. "What happened?" he tried again.  
  
Sydney bent her head down and examined the ends of the sleeves. The quality of the tailoring was obvious from the cut and the material indicated that this was probably an expensive suit. She leaned her head back on the chain fence and shook her head. She was too raw, too beaten up to explain, to wonder what had brought them both there. "Your suit is getting dirty."  
  
Vaughn shrugged and shook his head. It didn't matter. "Where are your shoes?" he asked. Sydney looked at her outstretched feet poking out from the bottom of her slacks. She shrugged and shook her head. It didn't matter.  
  
As she sat there looking at her feet she noticed that Vaughn's cell phone lay on the floor, past her. She leaned over and crawled to pick it up. She glanced at the screen of the phone and saw that he had missed a call. "You know," she said handing him the phone, "throwing my pager in the Pacific Ocean didn't solve any of my problems."  
  
He looked up at her as he took his phone back and held it in his hands. "No, I guess it didn't, but if I remember correctly it certainly made you feel better at the time." This caused Sydney to chuckle. After a moment he continued. "How do you do it Syd?"  
  
She glanced at him quickly, feeling oddly nervous and giddy before resuming her position next to him on the floor. "What do you mean?" she raised an eyebrow. "How do I lie to all my friends, travel around the world stealing items for a terrorist organization and deliver my evil boss into the hands of death? Or do you mean how do I manage to kick ass wearing heels?"  
  
An involuntary laugh escaped Vaughn before he became serious once again. "No, I mean how do you live your life at home and your life at work? Which one becomes less real?"  
  
"Neither," she answered softly. At Vaughn's skeptical look she continued. "They're both real. The reason I do the stuff at work is so that I can live my life." Vaughn nodded and Sydney saw a look of sadness appear on his face and she intuitively knew what it meant. "That doesn't mean that I consider my life here, working with the CIA to be less than my home life. I feel like I'm helping to bring down this horrible monster and that maybe everyone's home lives are going to be a little bit better because of it. But I do wish that my work and home lives didn't have to be mutually exclusive."  
  
"But how do you stay true to everything you care about when work and home pull you in such separate directions?"  
  
Sydney shook her head sadly. "I don't know if I do. Sometimes I just don't know what's right anymore. Sorry, that's not really the answer I know you want to hear. I-"  
  
They were interrupted by the soft beeping of Vaughn's phone. Vaughn hardly glanced at the screen before ending the call and tossing his phone back across the floor. Sydney watched the phone skip across the cement like a stone skipping across a river. Then she turned her gaze to her companion and eyed him curiously.  
  
Vaughn let the silence build until finally, unable to stand her glance any longer he tried to explain. "I just didn't want to be interrupted tonight. I didn't feel like pretending to anyone that-I mean that I just didn't want to pretend that my- never mind. I can't believe that I'm even bothering you about this." His shoulders slumped in defeat.  
  
"No please Vaughn, go on."  
  
Reluctantly Vaughn continued. "I just think that I was fooling myself. I think it's too easy to get caught up in things that you don't believe in but that other people expect you too. And then you spend all your time trying to make excuses for yourself, feeling guilty for a lie that other people put on you, when in reality what you should feel really guilty for is the fact you allowed yourself to accept the lie in the first place."  
  
"Vaughn, I'm not sure I know what you're talking about. Do you regret working with me or for the CIA?" Syd asked tentatively, secretly scared of his response.  
  
Vaughn grasped her by her shoulders and turned her to face him directly. "Never Syd. Working with you-well, that's when I'm not fooling myself."  
  
Sydney could do nothing except continue to look at him. He was no longer grasping her but instead he lay his hands gently on her arms. It was only when he looked down that she realized that she had been holding her breath.  
  
Finally he looked back up and continued. "The truth is completely inappropriate and I have no right to say it. So instead let me say that I'm sorry if you ever felt betrayed by me. If you haven't then-well, just ignore all this. But if you have, I'm sorry. That was never my intention and it won't happen again. No matter what."  
  
Unfortunately, Sydney thought that she might know what he was talking about. Finding out about him and Alice had felt like someone had ripped her heart out, especially because she had thought (or maybe just hoped) that he had cared about her. If that was what he was talking about, then what he was trying to tell her was that he was sorry for getting involved with Alice again. Though he implied that he had not desired a relationship with her, he had accepted it because of certain reasons. She could just imagine what those reasons might be. She had heard the comments. That was why she had been so quick to deny any involvement between them to Dr. Barnett. She could just imagine the grief he received from his co-workers, dating Alice had probably eased it a bit. She also realized that if he did care about her, then giving her the tasks that he did, as part of his job would be torture for him. Not to mention the fact that being seen together would likely bring about both of their deaths. If he had managed to make himself believe that he loved Alice, even a little, perhaps it had helped to ease his pain. And that brought her to what was probably the most meaningful thing that he had said, his last statement. 'No matter what'. In his eyes she had seen that he meant, 'No matter what the cost'. He had told her that the price of easing his pain was not worth the pain he had caused her to feel.  
  
Vaughn could see her eyes filling with tears and it nearly broke his heart. But he could also see her face change as she thought through all that he had said and so maybe they were tears of forgiveness. He lifted his hand to caress her cheek but that seemed to cause the tears to finally fall. He started to wipe them away but Sydney lowered his hands so that she could talk.  
  
***  
  
Jack entered the warehouse quietly. He had seen Sydney's car outside while he was driving past and had ordered the taxi driver to stop. There was no other car in the lot and he was concerned that she had come here by herself. As he approached the closed off area in the back he heard the quiet voices and stopped.  
  
From his position by the wall, he could see their beaten faces, Sydney's shoeless feet, Vaughn's jacket around her and a cell phone lying a few feet away. He knew intuitively, that he was viewing a more intimate moment than if he had found them naked and in bed together. But he also knew why they had come here. It was easy for everyone to assume that they were both invulnerable but he knew better, even before seeing them right now.  
  
I hope that you can find some peace in this, he thought. He saw Vaughn lift his hand and gently caress his daughter's cheek. He didn't know if he was supposed to feel anger at their disregard for their own safety or perhaps some paternal instinct to crush the hand of any man that dared to touch his daughter, but he felt neither. This was their journey to undertake. Jack turned around and just as quietly, let himself out of the warehouse.  
  
***  
  
"You are too good of a person for me, you know?" Sydney said quietly. At Vaughn's unbelieving expression she continued. "No, you are. You are so much stronger than I am. You have a strength of character that I admire so much." Sydney put up her hand to stop him from interrupting. Vaughn pushed his lips shut unhappily and she had to smile a little at his modesty. "It's true. You deal with things so much better than I do. All I can do is push them into a corner in my brain and forget about them, but when I have to deal with them I can't. It must drive you nuts listening to me oscillate back and forth between hating my father to defending him by insulting you. Not to mention my love-hate relationship with my mother. You just listen to me. You don't judge me, you never say, 'well Syd I tried to tell you about Madagascar'." Vaughn laughed lightly at her attempt to mimic him. "I know you went to go see my mother before they took you to the hospital, I know you went to see her to find me an escape in Russia, I've seen how my father treats you and I know how I've treated you sometimes. And you deal with it. I don't know how, but you do. And you manage not to hate me for how I act, and I even get the feeling you don't hate my dad. And I don't have a clue how you manage to even interact with my mother. You have this inner strength that amazes me. When we're working together I feel like I can do anything."  
  
Vaughn gave her a half smile and shook his head slightly, but he didn't act like he was embarrassed. He acted like she was entitled to her own opinion, even if it was one he didn't share. "Syd, you're the amazing one. Without you, we would be years behind where we are, trying to bring SD-6 down. You manage to work for a man you hate, for a man who killed your fiancé. You have to deal with your mother, your father, your friends, and your co- workers at SD-6! And yet, somehow you manage to keep yourself together when anyone else I know would have fallen apart long ago. Without you, I would just be your average junior CIA-man, doing my job with average convictions, living my life half dead and never really knowing it. Without me," he laughed softly at himself, "you'd just have another handler."  
  
Sydney shook her head. "No. I think that without you, I would be half-way to hell, if I wasn't already dead."  
  
He looked into her eyes as the silence fell. Too much had been said, he realized. He saw that she met his gaze directly. She had a battered expression on her face and was looking into his eyes like she was trying to draw strength from them. He raised his hand to her face to try and smooth away her pain and so he wasn't prepared for the tension that seemed to wrap around inside his chest with his simple caress. His hand froze on her cheek unable to continue its caress, but equally unable to remove itself from her face. Maybe she had drawn away all that strength she had talked about because suddenly he felt like he had no power left to resist her. Using the hand on her cheek to guide him, he brought his face forward to kiss her softly on her lips.  
  
They broke apart after a short while, but Vaughn noticed that the tension had not decreased. He continued to hold her face and he smiled when he noticed that Sydney's eyes no longer looked quite so desolate. She smiled back at him and they continued to look at each other for a few more moments before she spoke.  
  
"So, what do we do now?" she asked.  
  
Vaughn looked at her with a lopsided smile on his face. "I don't know. I guess we start by doing what we've always been doing. But we can do it together if that's something you want."  
  
Her smile faded and Sydney gave him a small nod to indicate that she had understood what he was asking her. "It will be so difficult though."  
  
"Is it something you want?" he asked her seriously, noticing that the haunted look was creeping back on to her face.  
  
Sydney smiled sadly. "Yes. More than I allowed myself to imagine I would. I need it. I need whatever you can give me. Tonight I felt like I was dying inside. I don't understand why tonight was so different but it's like I was looking through shattered lenses. Until I came here. Just being with you gave me the strength I needed to be whole again." She paused to catch her breath and then looked at him desperately. "But I also think that I might-- "  
  
Vaughn interrupted her by placing a finger on her lips. "Don't. Don't worry about me. I'm a big boy and I can take care of myself. I know what I'm getting myself into. And to be honest, I need it too. I need to feel alive, like I do when I'm with you."  
  
Sydney searched his eyes for reassurances that his words were true. She seemed to reach some kind of a conclusion and then she raised her face to his to kiss him. This kiss was harder, more intense, like she was trying to give back to him all the strength she had taken. They broke apart breathless. Leaning their foreheads against each other, she spoke. Her words were purposefully softer as if to make the contrast between their heavy breathing greater. "Then that's where'll we'll start."  
  
Vaughn nodded his head and opened his arms to her. She rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes, allowing herself to feel safe in his arms. In turn, he rested his chin on her head and closed his eyes, allowing himself to feel safe now that he had her in his arms.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


End file.
